


beaches help me think of you

by gael_itarille



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Retrospective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 00:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21127676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gael_itarille/pseuds/gael_itarille
Summary: The beach is peaceful- a marina of nature’s beauty. Innocent. She’s not like that, and she knows it.





	beaches help me think of you

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic I wrote on impulse! I’ve noticed I have a bit of a sea theme going on- but I honestly love writing for this couple. 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

Irina feels the sand under her thighs- sharp grains prickling her skin. It's a nice way to ground yourself to reality, she thinks.

The gulls call and the palm trees sway- a natural allure; an innocent beauty. She wasn't that. Red lips and darkened eyes, Irina was Aphrodite. She was the ideal partner, the gold standard. Men across the world worshipped her. Women wanted to be her. Women envied her. They didn't know. They had no idea. She didn't wish her life on anyone. Other women were classy, educated, bright- all gentle touches and clean linen sheets. Revealing dresses and expensive perfume and high, high heels- that was her repertoire, and coupled with her seduction techniques, Irina was the ultimate temptress. She knew why her targets wanted her; she was euphoria in bed. That was all. She couldn't compare with other women- understated elegance and light tinkling laughter; they were euphoria in _love_. Irina wasn't other women- charming and poised. She's afraid of Tadaomi wanting that. Twelve-year-old Irina wanted normalcy. Twenty-one-year-old Irina did the same. She was trained -bred- to be tantalizing, so tantalizing she was. She wasn't, however, trained to be loveable, so for the majority of her lifetime, she thought she wasn't. Many had no idea she hadn't even received a high school diploma. Only raised on Lovro's and Olga's teachings, Irina was brimming with knowledge that would allow her to integrate herself in high society- but high society only. The rest, she had taught to herself. She had never really fit in though- always trying to mimic the graceful movements of affluent millionaire women- donning their flowing white blouses and skirts, but settling for barely-there tops because she has a big bust- and that's _appealing_. 

For her, grace is unattainable. She'll never possess the airy quality of the women around her- serene and content and oh-so delicately attractive. She's crass and _damn_, does she know it. He doesn't deserve that. There are millions of others out there- professional and well-kept. They're not rash like her. They're not petulant like her. They're not like her. He doesn't like her. 

Irina remembers the first time someone looked at her with disgust. She was seventeen- a thin, sheer cover-up wrapped around her slim, bikini-clad frame. Lovro wasn't here, and she was alone- focused only on pursuing her target. A man -a father, something she didn't have anymore- glared at her, whispering to his little girls about appropriate attire. His eyes were scathing- as if he was revolted at her choice of dress. It seemed as if she was a vile, putrid thing- as if she was a foul stench in a public bathroom. His girls looked at her in turn- and they looked at her with judging glares. They were just kids. But she was one too. She cried in the pool, and the chlorine stung. 

It took her too short of a time to realize that she felt the same way about herself. 

But now's not the time for reminiscing. There are essays to mark, and tests to grade. Irina picks herself up, running a hand through her hair. The sand falls to the ground, and she takes one last breath of salty sea air. It almost tastes like tears. 

-

When she returns from the cave- her class gawking at the clinginess she’s displaying- she lets go of him almost immediately, because it’s stares like theirs that remind her she’s not good enough for him. 

They’re on the beach again soon enough- after he’s tossed her in the water once- and she’s doing what she always does. Scantily dressed in a bathing suit, back on the warm sand and toes under the lapping water. There’s a bit of an ease. The world is quiet- singing softly with the song of the waves and the melody of the wind. And soon- Irina drifts away. Her thoughts are consuming, and self-deprecation gets hard to mask on her pretty expression. Pink lips pursed for only a second -but that’s too long; she lets her guard down around him- she shifts. The sand scrapes her back, and she doesn’t mind. It’s a memoir- proof that she’s still alive and still human. 

He’s sitting there- perusing something on his phone. She sighs, and while she doesn’t expect comfort for what’s weighing on her, she wishes he’d come over, just to talk or even to sit. He does visit, eventually, when the sun has set a bit lower and the pink hues dye her eyes a kaleidoscope of purples and the shades of the sky. Dreams of this moment and fantasies flicker to life, and she hopes her anticipation isn’t too obvious-

But he simply tosses her into the water again.

She hits the water - slightly colder now- and then the sand- glaring with a huff. But the cold is good, she supposes, because she notices that just a second ago, he swept her off her feet- hands gentle under her thighs; some barely-there excuse of a hug. 

They’re not there yet- but he tried, she thinks. So her glare morphs into a smile, and he returns it with an awkward cross between a deadpan and a mellow look. That’s enough for her.

-

The night is over and the stars have risen, but Karasuma is well-awake. He doesn’t forget that scene on the beach- and he doesn’t truly regret it either. He notes something down in his head. She looked...pretty bathed in the sunset. Her skin was glowing, eyes open with a bit of innocent wonder. For once, he had seen something that wasn’t her forced beauty. It was enjoyable- whatever shards of her inexperience left combined with silky blonde hair and an almost imperceptible smile. He had asked once, young and curious, where the galaxy had gone. He couldn’t see it in his telescope. Now he knew the answer.

Her eyes. 

-

It’s been a year since the Assassination, and he finds her in the morning on the beach- resting in the same spot.

He doesn’t interrupt her.

She's lying down- calves submerged in pellucid blue waters, shoulders coloured a soft gold beneath the sun. Hair fanned out and lashes fluttering, Irina knows she must look like a goddess. At least, she hopes so. She's not so sure anymore. She's a bit tan now- cheeks resting in a daytime smile and a soft state of content. Her swimsuit isn't skimpy; a simple white bikini over flawless skin. The waves caress her rhythmically, and Irina feels more at peace now than ever. For the first time in her life, she's happy with herself. A teacher of twenty-eight amazing kids, a woman somehow deserving of such a considerate not-lover, a skilled government agent who _saves_ lives- she's coming closer to what she's ever wanted to be. More than that, even. She's not a model citizen- and maybe she never will be- but she truly cares for herself. Tadaomi will like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please- let me know your thoughts in the comments!


End file.
